


Chasing Daylight

by Wakefire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoptive Parents Malfoys, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everything is perfect and slowly goes to hell, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Godfather Severus Snape, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Implied/Referenced Torture, Male-Female Friendship, Redemption of Karkaroff, S&M, Slow Burn, Substance Abuse, Teacher-Student Relationship, Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort's child, because for two smart girls these two can be idiots, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11154117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wakefire/pseuds/Wakefire
Summary: During the First War, in addition to terrorizing the wizarding world, Voldemort had another project: the creation of an heir.Today, Adriana Vargas has the perfect life as the adopted daughter of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and one of Durmstrang’s best and brightest. That is, until she arrives at Hogwarts to participate in the Triwizard Tournament and during the course of the year, commits two grave mistakes: uncovers a secret she should have left alone, and falls in love with Hermione Granger. But it’s the inevitable return of the Dark Lord that sends her to a tailspin of destruction that threatens to consume not only her very soul but everyone around her as well.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The concept: What If Voldemort Had a Child. I'm fully aware of how terrible and Mary Sue -ridden the idea is. I'm doing my best to write it as realistically as possible. (This is one of those fics that start with the main character having a perfect life and you get to watch it crash and burn.)
> 
> Mainly follows book canon, with some movie sprinkled in. Also I may just change some things because I feel like it.
> 
> Contains some dialogue in other languages (mainly Spanish and Russian) that I'm not fluent in, corrections are welcome. Those lines aren't essential to be understood, anything that is will be in English.

 

_September 3 rd, 1981_

 

About a mile away from the nearest small village, so small it didn't show on most maps, was a house. Built between an elaborate garden and a meadow run wild with blue carnations, it stood at two floors, with light blue paint and intricate window panels. During daylight hours and properly renovated, the house would have looked beautiful, but now that the paint had chipped away and the decorations had pieces missing here and there, the place looked abandoned, eerie. It made the two men walking across the garden, one dressed in cerulean blue robes and the other in black, seem like ghosts treading in the realm between life and death.

The front door swung open as soon as the man in black stepped on the porch, almost as if the house itself had known to expect them. But from the startled look of the house elf appearing in the doorway, that was not the case. The elf seemed only mildly surprised at the sight of the first man, but its eyes widened into huge, panicky plates as soon as it spotted his companion.

“ _No!_ You cannot come here! _Nadie_ can come here!” the elf shouted, little hands waving, preparing to throw the uninvited guests out. It was stopped by a voice, a woman's voice, carrying from deep inside the house.

“ _Está bien. Ellos están anticipados. Puedes dejarlos entrar.”_

The elf, eyeing the two men with extreme wariness, stepped aside and allowed them to enter. The inside of the house was in better condition than the outside, but the wooden furniture could have used a new layer of varnish, and the floor creaked as they walked on it. The living room was dark except for a few lonely candles, most of the scarce lighting coming from the rays of moonlight through the windows. In an armchair in the middle of the room sat a woman, tall and thin, her dark hair spun into a bun by her neck, the bronze of her skin appearing dark sienna in the darkness. She stared out into the crescent moon, still as if she hadn't noticed her guests.

“Good evening, Miss Vargas”, Dumbledore greeted with a curt bow. “I apologize for the late night visit.”

“You do not need to hide behind pleasantries. I know why you're here”, the woman replied, turning to look at the two men. Her almond eyes were a sharp, bluish grey in the moonlight, and surrounded by such deep shadows it looked like she hadn't slept for days. “And you can't have it.”

“But she's still here, isn't she?”

The woman sneered. “Where could I possibly hide her in these circumstances?”

Dumbledore made a noise of agreement. He gestured towards another chair, and when he received no response, sat down, arranging the hem of his robes. Snape remained standing near the entrance of the room, half-sunken in shadows, as if he was hoping to not be present at all.

“I take it you're aware of what has happened, then?” Dumbledore continued, his tone still calm and pleasant.

The woman's gazes momentarily dropped to her hands in her lap, the long, spider-like fingers slowly twirling a wand. “The news travel, even here”, she replied. “People say he died. But he's not really dead, is he?”

For a fleeting moment, the light blue eyes flicked to the black ones, startled. “Not perhaps in the traditional sense, no”, Dumbledore said, arranging his words carefully. The woman seemed unfazed by his answer.

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How long will he stay... in this state?”

“If we are lucky, indefinitely.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable as to how she felt about the answer, and turned her gaze back to the moon. It was quiet, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

“I expected more of you, Severus”, she spoke suddenly. “She is so fond of you. She would be heartbroken, knowing you would do this to her.”

Snape's eyes widened. “Leonor, I didn't -”

“I assure you, Severus had very little choice”, Dumbledore interrupted him. “This matter needs to be dealt with. I couldn't take the risk to the wizarding world leaving it unattended.”

“She is not a risk or a matter to be dealt with!” Leonor exclaimed, her accent pushing through into her voice. “She is -”

She was, in turn, interrupted by the unmistakeable creaking of stairs. All three pairs of eyes turned to look, startled, at the little girl padding barefoot town the stairs. Dressed in a long, white nightshirt, she looked like a miniature version of the woman, only her hair shorter and her skin lighter. Ignorant of the attention, the girl rubbed her eyes, clutching a plush snake in her other hand, trying to gain better vision in the darkness. Spotting the man not that far away, her expression brightened and she glomped him as high as her three-feet-tall self could reach.

“Uncle Sevvie!” she squealed. Somewhat stiffly, Snape bowed down to pick her up. From her new post, she looked around and frowned as she saw the stranger in the room. “ _Quién es_ _é_ _l?_ Whuddis going on?”

For a moment, all three adults were unable to answer. Even Dumbledore, usually so collected, seemed rather taken aback by the scrutiny of the little girl. Leonor was the one who unfroze first and stood up, walking up to Snape.

“ _Todo está bien, corazón_ ”, she spoke softly as she took her daughter and stroked her hair. “It's the middle of the night, how are you up, anyway?”

“Heard noises”, the girl mumbled, happily curling up in Leonor's arms. “Mr. Fangs said I should come down.”

“I see.” When the two men seemed puzzled, Leonor elaborated. “Mr. Fangs is the snake.”

“Ah”, Dumbledore said. “And do snakes speak to her often?”

“It's a plush snake”, Leonor said sharply. She sat back down and muttered something into the girl's ear; within seconds, the girl had drifted back to sleep, breathing evenly against her mother's shoulder.

“She is a very beautiful girl”, Dumbledore offered after the silence and was met with a cold, hard look.

“Not that it matters to you, does it? I see how you look at her. Like she's some kind of a monster.”

“Are you certain she is not?” he asked quietly. “Are you sure you know what he’s made of her?”

“She's not a monster!” Leonor snapped, her knuckles shining white around her wand . “She's just a little girl. And if you so much as try to raise your wand against her, you will not walk out of here alive.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Forgive my bluntness, but wouldn't that kill you also?”

Leonor smiled bitterly. “Did the mother of that Potter boy stand aside when Voldemort was about to kill her son?”

In the corner, Snape flinched; if the other two noticed it, they didn't show it. Another silence passed, the woman sitting in the chair with her daughter, unwavering like a statue, and the elder wizard staring at the two over his fingertips.

“I'm sure you understand I can't simply leave her here”, Dumbledore said eventually

Leonor stared into an empty spot in the corner. “I know I cannot keep her”, she spoke quietly. “I am the link between her and Lord Voldemort. As long as she remains with me, anyone from either side can find out who she is. I’m not strong enough to protect her.” She swallowed and cleared her throat before turning back to Dumbledore; for one so fragile, her gaze held tremendous strength. “Whatever plans he had for her have fallen through now. All I want is for her to grow up in peace.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “What are you suggesting?”

Leonor glanced at the man in the corner. “Severus.”

Snape startled visibly. “I can’t – I work at Hogwarts now, I cannot take a child -”

“Then find someone who can. Someone who can give her a home and a family. Can you do that for her?”

Snape swallowed, hesitating. “I... I will try”, he finally replied.

“Good. Are you satisfied with these terms?” Leonor asked Dumbledore. “Will you promise not to harm my daughter and let her grow up in peace?”

After a moment of thinking, Dumbledore nodded. “I give you my word no harm will come to your daughter from my part, at least as long as she is a child.”

“I don't trust your word”, Leonor scoffed. “I want a _proper_ promise. The kind that you can't break at your convenience.”

This time, Dumbledore pondered for a longer while, frowning deep in thought. “You know, Miss Vargas, you are far more brave than I originally gave you credit for. I am truly sorry you have been put into this position.”

“I don’t need your pity. I need an answer.”

“Very well.” Very slowly, Dumbledore nodded again and stood up. “Severus?”

Leonor rose from the armchair and gently laid the girl down on it. She took Dumbledore's hand resolutely, her fingers curling around his wrist like talons.

To an outsider looking in through the window, it wouldn’t have looked like much: just some quietly spoken words, and tendrils of white light entwining around the joined hands. But the three people in the room knew the full weight of it, felt the hum of old magic as it wove the words into an unbreakable bond.

Some promises one made willingly, gladly, like wedding wows. Others one made reluctantly, out of necessity, desperately hoping to be able to live with the consequences.

When it was done, Leonor kneeled down by the chair where the girl laid still in deep slumber. She swiped off a strand of hair from the child’s forehead.

“Please, Severus, whatever else you have to say to her… Tell her I loved her”, Leonor whispered. She leaned down to press a kiss on the girl’s forehead and then, with trembling fingers, brought the tip of her wand to the small temple. “ _Obliviate_.”


	2. Enter the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Durmstrang delegation arrives at Hogwarts. Adriana is one hundred percent certain whom the goblet will pick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple thing relevant to this and future chapters: first, Durmstrang is in Russia, I never have and never will be able to imagine it being anywhere else. Secondly, my headcanons for Karkaroff and Krum are both from the movies, so the descriptions etc. will follow that.

About a couple of hours in, when the interest of underwater sailing had passed, Adriana Vargas had come to wonder why she had had to travel all the way to Russia just to return to Britain where she had been in the first place. It had something to do with showing unity of the school or something. Probably Karkaroff didn't want to miss having a perfect full dozen students to march down the gangplank. At least she had a room to herself, thanks to the uneven number of girls on the trip, so she could spend the journey reading in peace.

“Dina?” the muffled voice of Viktor Krum carried over through the door of her cabin.

Adriana reached for her wand on the bedside table and waved it, not raising her gaze from an old, Spanish tome, called _El Medios de la Sangre,_ that she had carefully perched on the pillow. The door opened and Viktor stomped in – stomped not because he was rude, but because big, fur-lined boots tended to wreak havoc on stealth.

“This better be important, I just got to the good part,” Adriana said, in Russian as usual, as she wrote another note down in her little black book. “Did someone fall over? Was it Poliakoff? I hope it's him.”

Viktor chuckled at the remark that other people might have scoffed at. “No. The Highmaster told us to gather up. We're there.”

“Already? And here I was thinking we'd have to sleep in this damn ship.”

“You know we're going to have to sleep in this damn ship all year, right?”

“...You know what I mean.”

Reluctantly, Adriana put down her self-filling quill and snapped the notebook and the big, old tome shut. She rolled herself up from the bed, straightened her standard oxblood red schoolrobe and laced up her boots with another flick of the wand. The third flick brought her heavy, fur-lined cloak from the coat rack and laid it neatly on her shoulders. While she was making herself presentable, a couple of students ran past her doorway on the corridor, no doubt racing to get the best view to the front windows as the ship would emerge. Adriana huffed.

“Aren't you curious at all?” Viktor asked. “It's not often anyone gets to visit another school's grounds.”

Adriana shrugged as she pulled her long hair from under the cloak and considered putting it in a bun, but couldn't bother with it. “Draco's told me a lot over the years,” she said. “Besides, we have the whole year, there's no point ogling it out of the window.”

Viktor shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as he turned around. Slipping the notebook in her pocket, where it shrunk automatically, Adriana followed him to the corridor and locked up her room with an additional charm, just in case. Nobody would probably be stupid enough to sneak in there without her permission, but it couldn't hurt to make sure.

“You seem really enthusiastic about this whole tournament,” Viktor teased as they walked towards the front of the ship. The corridor was narrow enough that with the two of them side by side, a third person couldn't get through, but judging by the silence in their wake, they were the last ones.

“I already know what's going to happen. My name's going to pop up from that goblet and then it's all year round being the champion and people fawning over me and being chased by nosy reporters... You're a famous Quidditch player, you know how it is.” Adriana rubbed her temples. “I'm getting a headache in advance.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “How can you be so sure it's you?” he asked, lowering his voice as they had begun to approach the group of students bustling around the ship exit and the windows. Adriana didn't get the chance to answer him before the Highmaster's voice drowned out everyone else's, his long cloak billowing as he hustled around the limited space arranging the students into presentable formation.

“Ivanova, you stand beside Vasilyev... No, Poliakoff, you don't need to be in the front, go somewhere to the middle... Where's Viktor – ah, there you are! I think we should put you last, as the showstopper, with Adriana.”

“The showstopper? What are we, a fashion show?” Adriana whispered to Viktor as he stepped over to stand beside her.

Apparently she wasn't quite quiet enough, because Karkaroff shot her an annoyed glance and opened his mouth to chastise her, but she was saved from the consequences by the huge swing the floor beneath their feet suddenly made, knocking a few of them over. The muddy green behind the windows switched to almost blinding brightness as the ship swung again, this time to the opposite direction. It stopped rather abruptly, testing their balance once more before settling down with numerous creaks. The hull door swung open with the most dramatic flair, revealing a grass field surrounding the sparkling lake, hosting hundreds of young witches and wizards in black robes. Behind them, on top of a small hill, stood a castle far bigger than Durmstrang.

So. This was Hogwarts.

 

* * *

 

They say that significant events in your life appear special when they happen. You take a bullet and you see your life flash behind your eyes; you spend the last perfect summer day with your childhood friend and everything is warm and fluffy like a filtered photograph. Or you see the person that will change your life forever and everything slows to a crawl and for a few seconds, your heart stops beating.

This wasn’t like that. All Hermione felt watching the entrances of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations was curiosity mixed with slight, but growing irriation. The fuss really was rather excessive. Sure, Viktor Krum was a famous Quidditch player, but all the fangirling among the other students was just ridiculous. Especially since it wasn't just the girls, Ron was twice as bad as them. His behavior was starting to annoy Hermione already and the year hadn't even officially started yet. She huffed as she dropped on the seat beside him in the Great Hall and watched the Beauxbatons students huddled up at the Ravenclaw table.

“It's not that cold,” she said. “Why didn't they bring cloaks?”

Not surprisingly, neither of the boys paid attention to her. Ron even started to poke her with his elbow.

“Hermione, budge up, make a space -”

“What?” Hermione snapped.

“Too late,” Ron muttered bitterly.

Still confused, Hermione looked up to see a girl emerge from the Durmstrang lot. She was tall and more tanned than most of others, with a slightly aquiline nose and long, dark hair cascading down her shoulders. She had the kind of look that turned a few heads as she strode past them, her high-heeled boots clicking against the stone floor – not pretty, not exactly, just... impressive in a rather intimidating way, kind of like a huge dragon that demanded admiration even though you knew it could roast your head off. The rest of the Durmstrang students followed her to the Slytherin table where she bowed down to talk to none than Draco Malfoy, who was quick to gesture the other Slytherins to move over.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy. I bet Krum can see right through him, though... bet he gets people fawning over him all the time...” Ron mumbled, arms crossed. To Hermione, the exchange between Malfoy and Krum seemed like fairly normal conversation, but she didn't say anything. It was better to let Ron fume in peace. “Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry... I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."

Hermione snorted, unable to help herself.

After Dumbledore's usual short opening words, dinner appeared at the tables. Hermione scooped up some bouillabaisse on her plate, despite Ron shooting down the whole dish without tasting it. But even as she had to concentrate on separating the non-edible parts from her food, she found her eyes drifting to the Slytherin table. Not because of Malfoy or Krum, but because of the tall, dark and mysterious girl sitting with them. Hermione had an irritatingly vague feeling that she’d seen the girl somewhere or… something.

“Harry,” she spoke. “Don't look now, but do you see that girl from Durmstrang talking with Malfoy and Krum?”

Harry looked up from his plate and craned his neck to see over Neville's head. “Yeah, why?”

“Does she look familiar to you?”

Harry frowned, as if thinking hard, but then shrugged and returned to his food. “No, not really.”

“I know who she is”, Ron said suddenly, his mouth full of food. “Well, I don’t know _who_ she is, but I’ve seen her in some photos with Krum after the World Cup. I think she’s his girlfriend. Hey, d'you think if you talked to her first, she'd agree to introduce us to Krum?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Just because they were in some photos together doesn’t mean she’s his girlfriend”, she argued. “And I’m not going to play matchmaker for you and Krum, you can talk to him yourself.”

The boys didn't pay the matter any more mind, though Ron seemed a little disappointed. Hermione kept poking a stubborn shellfish with a spoon as she leaned on her free hand, brow furrowed. She didn't fully realize she was staring until the Durmstrang girl looked up and straight back at her as if sensing her scrutiny. The girl's eyes were dark and stormy grey like the ceiling above, and when she raised an eyebrow at Hermione, she felt a chill travel down her spine. She looked away immediately, feeling furious blush rising on her cheek.

She didn't dare to look at the Slytherin table again for the rest of the dinner.

 

* * *

 

 Adriana had to admit, silently in her own head, that Hogwarts was a little more impressive that what she'd originally given it credit for. It was substantially bigger than Durmstrang, but then again, it seemed to have more students, too. Even though the steak she was chewing didn't quite compare to the exquisite, often French food the Malfoys had accustomed her to, it was still very good and served on a golden plate. The ceiling of the high hall was enchanted to look like an actual sky, and Adriana made a mental note to investigate which spells produced that effect, because she could use more decoration in her room.

“So, Draco,” she spoke, turning to her adoptive brother. “Which one is the infamous Harry Potter?”

Draco reluctantly paused his conversation on Quidditch with Viktor and looked around the hall. “Over there in the Gryffindork table, with the Weasley and the mudblood Granger”, he said, gesturing vaguely.

They weren't very helpful instructions, but after a bit of searching Adriana spotted a short, skinny boy with big, round glasses and messy black hair falling over his forehead. Gobbling up his food, the boy looked very harmless and unassuming.

“You made him sound... I don't know, taller?” Adriana remarked. Viktor chuckled and Draco's cheeks turned slightly red.

“Yes, well – just because he looks like an underfed rodent, doesn't make him any less of an annoyance,” he said defensively.

As her interest in the great Harry Potter quickly faded, Adriana noticed the girl sitting beside him. She looked about the same age as Draco and Potter and she had a huge, unruly pile of chocolate brown curls on her head. She was also staring at their direction intently, a deep frown on her forehead, as if she was considering whether she should jinx Adriana to get her place next to Viktor. Adriana raised an eyebrow at the girl, who immediately dropped her gaze and blushed, as if she'd been caught doing something highly forbidden.

“You seem to have gathered a pack of admirers already,” she said to Viktor in Russian. “I'm starting to think the Highmaster might be right, perhaps you should consider hiring a bodyguard.”

Viktor grinned. “What, are you interested in the position?”

Adriana huffed and threw her hair over her shoulder. “You couldn't afford me.”

They both laughed and Draco looked confused, having missed the whole conversation due to the language barrier.

After dinner was over and the plates cleared by themselves, a big, jewel-encrusted chest was carried into the hall. A wave of curious murmuring erupted from the Hogwarts students; Karkaroff had already told his students about the goblet, and judging by the look of well-feigned curiosity on the faces of the Beauxbatons students, Madame Maxime had done the same. When most of the students perched up in their seats, struggling to get a better look at the burning goblet, Adriana dug the notebook from her pocket and started writing. She already knew what was going to happen, she didn’t need to hear all the details.

 

* * *

 

 The following day passed in a state of vague, yet permanent irritation for Adriana. Even though it was a Saturday, Karkaroff had forced his students to wake up at an unearthly hour to drop their names in the goblet. The hill was still misty with morning dew as they trudged to the castle just to drop pieces of paper in the damned goblet. Adriana had stayed up late reading and couldn't get back to sleep after returning to the ship, even after she had put on every sound-dampening spell she could think of and effectively sealed her room from the outside world. It worked so well that she missed lunch because she couldn't hear anyone knocking on the door. So by the time the Halloween feast was about to start, she was sleep-deprived and hungry, and her fingers itched to jinx anyone who'd look at her the wrong way.

“I hate this tournament already,” Adriana muttered into her dessert bowl.

“Yes, poor you, future champion,” Viktor teased, completely untouched by her suffering.

Draco frowned. “How can you hate it? I'd be all over the chance if I could compete. You said it yourself, beating the other two will be a walk in the park for you if you get picked.”

“Big if,” Adriana huffed as she lifted up her goblet, examining her reflection and making sure her lipstick hadn't spread. Even though she hadn't felt up to it, she had charmed away her bloodshot eyes and gathered her hair into an elaborate braid, if only for the chance that someone took pictures. Narcissa would never forgive her for appearing unpresentable in a newspaper article.

“You're really that sure it's going to be you?” Viktor asked. Adriana paid him a sidelong glance.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied. “What are you getting at?”

“Would you bet on it?”

Adriana raised an eyebrow. “Neither of us is exactly poor, I don't think a fifty Galleon wage would have that much of dramatic tension to it.”

Viktor grinned. “I wasn't talking about money. I was thinking more like..” He paused for a minute to think. “If you lose – if the goblet picks someone, say me, over you – you come to a Quidditch practice with me.”

“Why would I do that? I don't care about Quidditch, I haven't touched a broomstick for years.”

“That's why. Losing is supposed to be awful for you,” he pointed out. “If you're right and you win, what do you want?”

Adriana considered it. She didn't usually participate in bets, as they were rather pointless and juvenile, but this one was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Smiling, she turned to face Viktor.

“You do my Charms homework. For the entire first semester.”

Viktor remained completely unfazed. “Alright,” he said. “So, the bet is on?”

Adriana shook her head incredulously. “You just took on an extra load of work, you know that, right?”

“We'll see,” Viktor said, grinning as he turned his attention towards the front of the hall where the goblet had been moved. As if on cue, the plates cleared and everyone started talking at the same time until Dumbledore stood up. Karkaroff was sitting on the edge of his seat like the students, his eyes darting between the goblet and the Slytherin table.

“The goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” Dumbledore spoke. “I estimate that it takes one more minute.”

After giving a few instructions, he waved his hand and extinguished every light excluding the pumpkin lanterns. Adriana frowned in annoyance, since it prevented her from doing a last-minute double-check on her reflection. As everyone sat and stared, waiting in absolute silence, she straightened her back and swiped a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear.

Suddenly, the flames rising from the goblet turned bright red again, accompanied by nearly blinding sparkles. A single piece of parchment flew out, descending softly on Dumbledore's waiting hands. Adriana took a deep breath and fashioned a pleasantly surprised smile on her face.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” Dumbledore read – Adriana held on to the edge of the table, preparing to stand up, “will be Viktor Krum!”

Wait, _what?_

It was like her oxygen was momentarily cut off. Adriana felt like she’d suddenly fallen several feet, even though she hadn’t even got up from her seat. Her mouth hanging agape, she was unable to do anything but watch with wide eyes as Viktor beside her stood up. Staring after him as he walked away, she felt the clapping and cheering fade as if it was an echo from far away. The only thing that stirred her back to reality was Draco nudging her, a slight look of concern on his face.

“Dina, are you okay?” he hissed. “You went really pale.”

Adriana shook her head. “It's nothing, I'm fine. It's nothing,” she repeated, joining the applause with the rest. She couldn't even feel her hands.


End file.
